Like every aspiring hard climber I am constantly trying to
evaluate my performance to try to work out how to climb better and where best
to concentrate my training. I am, however, coming to the conclusion that the
main reason why I don’t get up a climb is because I don’t get on it in the
first place. That’s not to say I would get up any climb I choose to get on just
that I tend to pre-empt failure by avoiding the route altogether. Why I don’t
get on a route seems to be due to a combination of reasons: fear of falling,
fear of failing, a reluctance to put myself in a position where I’ll have to
try hard (otherwise known as laziness) but mainly because I forget that I
really like climbing.
Recent outings have been prime examples of this. Last week
we headed down to Swanage, to the mega-steep Lean Machine Area. Alexis lead
Surge Control first whilst I belayed cowering from the huge waves funnelling in
to the base of the crag. I set off to second it with cold hands and without a warm
up, unsurprisingly it wasn’t long before the flash-pump-of-doom and numb
fingers saw me sitting on the rope feeling generally sorry for myself. The
rational view of this would be that I fell off because my fingers and muscles
were cold and I was trying to climb the 6b crux of a pumpy E5. The view that I
took, however, was that climbing was hard, painful and unpleasant and that
there was no point in me getting on Lean Machine as I would just fail and hate
myself forever. As you can tell I wasn’t in a happy place!
Luckily I had time for my arms to recover, I managed to
encourage myself to get on the route and from there it was alright. Compared to
seconding Surge Control it was a walk in the park: lots of holds and gear and
an entirely bearable level of pump. The crux as always was the decision-making
part before getting on the route, moral of the story: I really enjoy climbing
and if in doubt should get on and lead something.
Yesterday, with the memory of Lean Machine in the front of
my mind, we went to Cheddar to get on Kephalonia. As three star, three pitch
E5s go it was amazing, cold and shady but amazing. Alexis led the first pitch –
it was his birthday after all – and I seconded it cold, without a warm up and
fell off with numb fingers and toes and flash pump in my arms (déjà vu
anyone?). Despite the lessons learned from last week’s adventure when I got to
the belay and looked at the intimidating second pitch I handed the lead back to
Alexis citing flash pump, cold fingers and the fact that the first pitch felt
really hard.
 |
| The other Kephalonia |
As I sat on the belay listening to the plaintive cries of
goat kids and the unnecessary noise of boy-racers echoing around the gorge I
berated myself for not leading ‘my’ pitch. By the time I got to the second
belay I was annoyed enough with myself to make the decision to lead the last
pitch without thinking twice. We sorted out the gear and I set off, as usual as
soon as I stepped off the belay I felt relaxed, happy and unhassled by a rope
above me. The pitch started easily and then culminated in a wonderful series of
layback moves above 60 or 70 metres of exposure. It was a delight and leading a
pitch made the whole route a far more enjoyable experience.
From now on I solemnly vow to ignore the pessimistic voice
of failure and get on lead on stuff that I find hard whether I believe I can
climb it or not.
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